


Locked Up In My Feelings

by bwiddlestiff (orphan_account)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, McLennon, Prison AU, Slight Stu/John, The Beatles - Freeform, a bit of angst, i'm trash, it's an all for one show everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bwiddlestiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison AU. A new cell mate arrives for Ringo in the middle of the night. The two aren't all too sure about one another, but Ringo tries to be nice. He introduces the new man to his friends, and he seems to take a liking to a certain someone.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for clicking on my story! I hope you enjoy it.

“Hey, wake up.”

Ringo sat up, hearing the rattling of the bars. He rubbed his eyes groggily and looked towards the exit of the cell.

“What?”

He asked, his voice rough, upon just having woken up. He saw the officer at his door, the usual guy. What confused him was the man standing  _ next _ to him. 

“You’ve got a new roommate.” 

The officer stated, his eyes narrowed at Ringo as he unlocked the cell door. He uncuffed the man next to him, still holding his wrists in one hand. He then opened the door, practically shoving the man in. He looked from Ringo, to the boy, then proceeded to lock the door once more. 

“That’s all.”

The officer mumbled, beginning to walk away.   
“Play nice.”

Ringo looked to the man, his new roommate, warily. He looked calm enough, wasn’t screaming irrationally, wasn’t crying and pleading. Those were okay signs.

“Hey.”

Ringo mumbled, yawning as he outstretched his hand. Even though it was prison, he was still friendly. It was better to have people on your side, rather than going after your neck. 

“I’m-”

“Tired. Me too. Talk in the morning.”

Ringo blinked, a bit taken back by the man’s bluntness. 

“Ah, um, alright. Night to you then.” 

Ringo said, the other simply nodding as he climbed up to the top bunk.

“Be careful.”

Ringo warned, hearing a simple grunt from the other. The blue eyed male laid back down, but couldn’t sleep. This happened every time he got a new cell mate. Even if they did talk beforehand, he didn’t trust them until he actually  _ knew _ them; let alone knew what they were in for. He tensed up when he heard shuffling above him, then quiet steps down the bed ladder. Ringo feared the worst, the man had snuck in some kind of weapon and was here to kill. Ringo internally debated about yelling out, but suddenly, the man was in front of him. Ringo took this time to try to scan him over; but it was too dark.

“What time’s breakfast?”

The man asked, Ringo stared at the other for a while, trying to process his words.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. Eight am probably, they don’t really give us specific times.”

The other man nodded, his breathing heavy.

“Do they have a signal or do you have to get up on your own?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”

Even in the darkness, Ringo could feel the icy glare of the other man. He put his hands up as a surrender. 

“Look, they have an alarm type sound. You can get up if you want, but you don’t have to. They will take roll call though, so if you don’t go, it should either be because you’re sleeping in, or you have an activity to do.”

The other male nodded, brushing his bangs out of his face. 

“Okay.”

He mumbled, walking to the bars of the cell. 

“What’re you doing?”

Ringo asked, not bothering to get up.

“Don’t shake the bars, they’ll come down and take you into solitude.”

The other looked towards Ringo, raising a brow.

“Really?”

He asked, Ringo nodding and chuckling. 

“It’s gotten that bad.”

The other man gave a soft chuckle, putting his hands on the bars gently. Ringo watched him with curiosity, hoping he didn’t get the both of them in trouble. 

“There’s a clock on that wall over there, it’s lit up. I might be able to see the time if I lean a bit.”

Ringo sighed, flopping back down on his back, grunting afterwards. 

“Don’t even try. Every newbie does, it never works. They just end up getting a scolding.”

      The other man let go of the bars, walking back towards Ringo.

“Is that so bad?”

Ringo rolled his eyes, turning on his side to face the other.

“Yeah, you wanna be on the guards’ good side. If you do, they'll treat you a lot better.”

Ringo stated simply, brushing his hair from his eyes.

“Get some rest though, buddy. You have a lot of discovering to do tomorrow.”

The other man stared at Ringo for a while. Ringo wondered if he thought Ringo couldn't see him. After a good thirty seconds of staring passed, Ringo turned over, having his back towards the other.

“Sleep.”

Ringo mumbled again, hoping the man would just do as he was told. Everything was silent, and then he heard the slapping of bare feet on concrete, and then on metal. He felt the mattress above him sink down, and Ringo sighed, flipping with his back towards the wall again.

“Is it scary?”

He heard the other man ask in a soft voice. He sounded kind of fragile. Ringo thought, was it scary? It wasn't so much anymore, but on his first day?

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“Well- I mean- it's not so much scary as it is overwhelming.”

The man above him shuffled around a bit, then gave a small

“Oh.”

in reply.

“Get some sleep, it'll help.”

 

-

 

A small bell noise rang through the prison, Ringo groaned. He felt the mattress above him jerk and heard a gasp. Ringo looked up and saw the other man clutching his chest. Ringo smirked, sliding off the bed.

“Gets ‘em every time.”

Ringo said, crossing his arms as he walked to the cell door.

“C’mon, up and at ‘em!”

Ringo clapped, the other man slowly climbing down the ladder and landing on the floor.

“Hey...why don't you have a uniform?”

Ringo asked, walking over to the other man and pinching his black cotton turtleneck between two fingers. It was soft, very soft, and also ripped, very ripped. He looked at the man, finally getting a good chance to study him and look him over.

The other man had shaggy dark brown– almost black –hair. It was messy and looked like he'd been thrown around. His face was beautiful; not that Ringo was attracted to him or anything, he was just a beautiful man. His eyebrows were almost perfectly shaped, his lashes were long and bold– probably what every girl dreamed of having –and he had almond-shaped hazel eyes. His lips weren’t exactly huge, but they were pretty plump for a guy. He was wearing the black ripped turtleneck and ripped jeans with no shoes on.

“How have they not put you in a uniform yet?”

Ringo asked, astonished.

“Well, they just caught me last night. I guess it was short notice.”

Ringo eyed the other suspiciously. What could the other have done that was so bad, they skipped his uniform and clock in just to get him in here in general?

“Since you interrupted me last night, I'm Richard. You can just call me Ringo though, everyone does.”

He offered his hand, and the other took it, shaking it firmly.

“I'm James, but everyone calls me Paul. It's my middle name.”

Ringo was a little surprised he hadn't heard it before, but there was an accent in his voice, similar to his. 

“Not happy with your first name?”

Ringo chuckled, Paul’s eyes wandering.

“No, my father is James, so it was easier if I went by Paul.”

Ringo frowned, shrugging. The cell doors beeped and opened, guards standing at every open space they could find. One approaches Ringo and Paul’s cell, the one from last night. 

“James McCartney?”

Paul stepped forwards, looking at the ground.

“That's me.”

He mumbled, the officer gesturing for him to follow him. 

“You’ll need to come with us. We need to get you out of those old clothes and check you in, huh?”

The officer grabbed Paul’s wrist, leading him away. 

Ringo shrugged, heading towards the dining hall, assuming they'd bring him back to the cell after breakfast. He walked into the dining hall, getting a tray and waiting in line. He saw his friends, but didn't dare cut in front of anyone to get to them. After he got his food, he looked around, spotting his friends and sitting down next to them.

“Hey guys, sorry I was late.”

Ringo sighed, picking up his fork and poking the stale pancake on his tray.

“It's not anything out of the ordinary. Woke up late?”

One of his friends, George, said, shoving practically the entire contents of the tray in his mouth.

“No, I got a new cell mate.”

Both Ringo and George eyed the other of the three out of spite. 

“Cool.”

 George said slowly, looking back to Ringo.

“What's he like?”

Ringo proceeded to tell the other two about him, George seeming intrigued, the other seeming a bit uninterested. 

“Yeah, his eyelashes were fuckin’ huge man-! There he is!”

Ringo spotted Paul across the way, he had a water bottle in his hand. He was dressed in the proper prison uniform now, and his once messy hair was now clean and tame.

Ringo got up and walked over to Paul, knowing he could use company.

“Hey, why don't you come sit with my friends and I, yeah?”

Paul nodded slowly, Ringo pointing to the water bottle.

“Where’d ya get that?”

Paul gulped, looking to Ringo with sad eyes.

“They said I’d need it.”

Paul mumbled, Ringo not failing to notice the red puffiness around his pretty eyes. He knew what the water bottle was for. George had gotten one when he arrived too. He remembered John introducing Ringo to George and George looked the same as Paul did right now. Red puffy eyes, worried expression, confusion, just a swell of emotions. Later on, George had told him the guards give you water to calm you down if you cry. Now it's sort of a system, the new prisoners who arrive with water bottles are immediately picked off by the stronger prisoners. Ringo looked to the water bottle, then looked around. He grabbed it and kicked it under a table when nobody was looking.

“You don't want that, okay?”

Paul nodded, and Ringo gestured for Paul to follow him, and he did. 

“Guys, this is Paul. He's the new cell mate I was tellin’ you about.”

George scanned the newbie over once, even twice. 

“Do ya know what they do ta pretty boys in here, Paul?”

Ringo kicked George from under the table, glaring at him. Paul simply stared at the ground, shrugging. Ringo looked to Paul sympathetically, wondering what rendered him so quiet. Did something happen when he was changing? Did the guards give him a beating? He didn't look hurt.

Ringo looked back to the other of his two friends, tapping the spot in front of him on the table.

“Hey, why don't you say ‘Hi’ to Paul here?”

The man raised a brow, Ringo gesturing for him to go on.

“Why hello there Paullie! Ya doin’ okay? Ya seem sad? Any chance lil’ ol’ me could help ya?”

The man exaggerated, Ringo glaring at him as the man shrugged.

“You know what I mean, John. Remember your first day here?”

 The man called John shrugged once more, tapping his fingers on the table.

“It wasn't so bad.”

Ringo rolled his eyes and looked at Paul.

“Are you hungry?”

Paul shrugged, continuing to stare at the ground. Ringo didn't think he saw Paul look up, or hear him speak since he'd been alone with him.

“Are you alright, for real?”

George asked, Ringo nodding. Paul looked at George blankly, looking him over. He shrugged, looking back to the floor. George scrunched his nose, turning his head away from Paul and to the side.

“Didn't wanna talk to ya anyways.”

George mumbled, mainly to himself. Ringo nudged John’s foot from under the table, urging him to try. John grimaced, Ringo giving him a pleading look. John rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Hey, I think we got off in the wrong foot. I'm John.”

The man put his hand in front of Paul on the table, palm down.

“You should talk to us, okay? We’re you're friends and friends are all ya got here.”

Paul slowly looked up, his face was blank at first, but as he looked at John, he seemed a bit brighter. John looked to Ringo, as if to say,

‘Did you notice it too?’ 

Ringo nodded, John looking back to Paul .

“Are you alright, my man?”

 Paul cleared his throat, attempting to speak. His voice was a lot more hoarse than it was when Ringo had talked to him.

“Yeah, um, just a little  _ overwhelmed _ I guess.”

Ringo smiled, Paul continuing to stare at John. John nodded, sniffling.

“We can show ya around if you want? After brekky?”

Paul snorted, John raising a brow.

“What?”

John chuckled, defensively.

“That's what we call it!”

Paul laughed, John laughing along with him. 

Ringo leaned over to George, putting a hand to George’s ear.

“They seem to get along well.”

George nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll help him get over. Ya know.”

Ringo nodded, putting his hands together and pretending to plead. 

“Let's hope so.”

Ringo said, George snorting as they turned back to John and Paul.

“Are you guys gonna help me show Paul around?”

John asked, looking towards the other two.

“Ah, I can't, sorry John. I've got that cooking class, remember?”

Paul tilted his head, looking to George in confusion. Ringo decided to explain.

“You can take classes here. The main class is cooking. If you have a perfect reputation, and ace the class you can be a chef.”

George nodded enthusiastically.

“And when you're a chef, you get ten times more food than normal!”

Ringo and John chuckled, George pursing his lips.

“What? It's true. Not like we all couldn't use more food!”

John turned to Ringo, asking if he could accompany them.

Ringo debated, maybe if he left them alone they'd get to be good friend and John could forget about-.

“Ringo? You there?”

Ringo snapped out of his thoughts and chuckled nervously.

“Ah- no sorry. I'm gonna go around for favors, see if I can get ciggies for them.”

John patted the table excitedly.

“If ya get more than two, ya gotta share!”

Ringo sighed and rolled his eyes, nodding nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

John stood up, looking at the huge clock at the bottom line where the ceiling met the wall. 

“We’re getting dismissed in about twenty seconds. I'll show Paul here around, and we can all meet up later. Sound good?”

George and Ringo nodded in unison, John looking towards Paul. Paul smiled and nodded, John putting his hand in the middle of all four of them and waited until the bell rang. He took his hand out and cheered,

“Go, team, go!”

and cackled, grabbing Paul’s wrist and practically dragging him down the hall.

George and Ringo watched Paul’s eyes widen, then he relaxed and chuckled as he was pulled along, then disappeared behind a corner.

“Well that was certainly fun, but I've got to get to my food now.”

George waved and Ringo and him exchanged goodbye’s, then Ringo walked off the other direction back to his cell. He decided he'd collect favors another time; after staying awake all night paranoid about his new cell mate, he needed sleep. 


	2. The Basics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Paul spend some time by themselves, in which Paul finds out what John did to end up in here. After taking Paul on a tour around the facility, they bump into Ringo. Paul learns about Ringo, George and John's secret cigarettes and the place to smoke them. Ringo tells Paul what he did and Paul was about to tell Ringo what exactly he did, but they get interrupted by a certain someone's recklessness.

John dragged the other behind him, glancing back every now and then to make sure he hadn't tripped or anything. Paul would smile every time John glanced back, and it made John smile. John slowed down, eventually coming to a stop.

“Over here is where the courtyard is. You can hang out there from after breakfast to before dinner.”

Paul nodded, John realizing he was still holding Paul’s wrist and let go. 

“There's like flowers and stone walkways and shit.”

He said, Paul smiling and staring at the door.

“Sounds nice.”

He muttered, John smiling triumphantly, happy he got the boy to talk. 

“Wanna walk around? I've got all day to show ya around the rest of the facility anyways.”

Paul nodded,

“I'd like that.”

John pushed opened the steel door, the light of the sun blinding both for a few seconds. There was a stone path in front of the door, flowers on either side.

“Wow. For a prison, it sure is very nice.”

Paul said in a soft voice, John nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah, there are guards  _ everywhere _ , though.”

John mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, that's understandable. We are  _ outside _ .”

Paul said, John shrugging as he gestured for Paul to follow him. He lead the other down the path, passing by the different colored flowers.

“They usually take people here when they start to...yanno.”

John twirled a finger at the side of his head, crossing his eyes. Paul chuckled softly and it was music to John’s ears.

“So anyways,  _ Paul _ , why’re you in here?”

Paul raised his brows, frowning. He looked down at his feet and shrugged as he walked. John sighed, continuing to walk at a slow pace so Paul could keep up.

“You wanna know what I got in here for?”

Paul looked up, shrugging.

“Sure.”

He said quietly, his eyes drifting to the flowers. 

“I got caught making and selling illegal weapons.”

He said flatly, cracking his wrist. Paul looked back to John, intrigued.

“How’d you get caught?”

Paul questioned, 

“If you don't mind me asking.”

John chuckled, closing his eyes as he walked. He knew this path backwards, forwards and sideways so he knew he'd be okay. 

“Well, it's a funny story.”

He mumbled, furrowing his brows. 

“I was driving with the weapons in the back, you know? I started thinking, thinking about what these people were doing with these weapons…”

John slowly opened his eyes, looking Paul straight in the eye.

“...wondering if they were killing people, you know? Sometimes people just buy them for protection or to be cool, but you just never know.”

Paul stared at John, intrigued immensely.

“I started thinking of how fucked up I was. I was- quite literally -handing these people their damn ammunition to kill.”

John sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I knew it wasn't any of my business what they were doing with them. I shouldn't have been worrying, it wasn't my fault, even though it totally was.”

John looked to the guard that they passed, staying quiet for a moment until they were out of earshot. The guards already knew that the prisoners did illegal things, but John didn't want his whole story broadcasted across the prison or anything.

“Needless to say, I had a breakdown. Guess that's why they say that you should never think of those things– the  _ reasons _ –when you're in that business.”

John said, breathing in heavily.

“I eventually drove to the police station, turning myself in, telling them the names of my clients and the regulars. I don't know if they've been caught, but…”

Paul looked to John, then the ground.

“Wow.”

He mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, it was a bitch move, I know, make your jokes.”

John’s hands shook slightly, he cursed the uniforms for not having pockets. He instead settled for crossing his arms.

“Damn, I need a cigarette.”

He mumbled, Paul remaining silent.

“Thanks for sharing that with me, I guess.”

Paul said, finally speaking up. John shrugged– well, as best as he could with his arms crossed. 

“Why don't I go show you around some more? This is only the half of it!”

Paul nodded, John trying to get the awkward tension out of the air.

“That'd be nice.”

Paul said with a smile, John clearing his throat, looking the other way.

 

-

 

Ringo yawned, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He stretched out his arms and cracked his back, lazily throwing the one sheet to the end of the bunk. He grumbled something or other to himself, swinging his legs over the side and standing up slowly. Ringo hissed, even when he was careful he still got a headache from standing too fast. 

‘I feel even more tired now than I did before.’

Ringo thought, putting his hands on the bars of the cell door and pushing it open. He wondered where he should go for the couple hours before George’s ‘cooking class’ was over. He knew he’d probably never find John and Paul on his own, so he shrugged and decided to do what he had originally said he was going to do. Favors. He was lost in his planning when he felt himself bump into someone. 

“Oof–!”

Ringo exclaimed, stumbling backwards a little as he looked up to see who his ‘attacker’ was.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Ringo grinned, seeing it was John and Paul.

“Done with touring I see?”

Paul nodded, John doing so as well. 

“Yep, showed Paul the ropes, let him in on a few tricks and tips.”

Ringo nodded, noticing the way Paul was staring at John, smiling. Ringo decided to not say anything as he chuckled to himself. 

John raised a brow, wondering what was funny, but didn’t ask. He looked to Paul, and noticed his dopey smile. Although as soon as John smiled back, Paul’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat, turning away.

“Did you- uh, get any cigarettes?”

John asked slowly, turning back to Ringo. Ringo shook his head, and John let out a long and exaggerated groan. Ringo snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Do you really need one?”

John looked at Ringo in a serious manner, nodding and turning to Paul.

“Hold on second, please.”

John pulled Ringo away and towards Ringo’s cell. 

“My hands are shaking and I feel like I’m going punch a wall. I  _ need _ a cigarette.”

He mumbled, Ringo nodding as he beckoned Paul back over. Paul shuffled his way over, continuing to stare down at the ground. 

“I have one left, you’re lucky, Lennon.”

Ringo mumbled, looking both ways down the long hall of cells. It was pretty empty except for a couple guards. Most of the prisoners were wandering around or sleeping, so he didn’t have to worry about them. Ringo sat down on the floor, taking the black uniform boot off his foot. He reached in and pulled out an almost empty box of cigarettes. He quickly pulled out the single one left and put his boot back on, standing up casually. 

Paul raised his brows as he watched this unfold. That had to be uncomfortable, right? The man watched as Ringo handed John the cigarette carefully, John putting it up his sleeve and making his hand into a fist. Both John and Ringo looked around, waving for Paul to follow them as they began to walk.

After Paul eventually caught up to them, John dragged behind a bit to walk next to Paul. He began to speak in a hushed whisper, which is why, Paul guessed, he moved closer.

“We’re going to George’s cell block. There’s usually no guards there at this hour, and everyone is ushered somewhere else because of that.”

Paul nodded, putting a hand on John’s shoulder before he could get ahead.

“Is it just open then? That makes no sense.”

John chuckled, and looked to Paul.

“It’s not exactly  _ open _ , but…”

John’s voice trailed off as they passed a guard. He began to walk faster to catch up to Ringo. 

After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at George’s block. John put a hand in front of Paul’s chest; much like a mother does when stopping too fast in the car.

“There’s an alarm that stretches about two feet. If you land on it, your little ‘anklet’ there,”

John pointed to the black, boxy ankle monitor above the beginning of Paul’s boot.

“will trigger a loud alarm and the guards will basically just follow that sound until they find you.”

John stated simply, looking Paul seriously in the eyes.   
“We won’t wait up if that happens, so be careful. Ringo and I here don’t want to lose a potential friend.”

John said, Ringo hopping, what looked to be, over nothing. He tensed up, and then gave a thumbs up to John. 

“It’s from the third tile at least. Just try to make it over to where I landed.”

Ringo said, John nodding and jumping as well. Paul had to chuckle at how ridiculous it looked. John landed on his toes, quickly rushing forwards so he didn’t fall. John and Ringo beckoned Paul to jump and Paul looked down at the floor nervously. He shrugged, stepping up to the third tile. He jumped and cringed when he landed, waiting a few seconds, but hearing nothing.

“Hey, hey, hey! You made it!”

John patted Paul’s back and Ringo snorted.

“Welcome to the club, buddy.”

John reached into his boot, doing the same process Ringo did, but instead, pulling out a lighter wrapped in some tape-like substance. Paul stared quizzically.

“It’s covered in stuff that keeps it under the radar of metal detectors and stuff.”

John frowned, staring at the wall.

“It cost me...a lot.”

He then shook his head and shrugged, Paul looking to Ringo with a confused look. Ringo shook his head as if to say,

‘Don’t bother.’

John proceeded to light the cigarette, immediately inhaling. He held the smoke in his mouth for a while and then blew out slowly. He proceeded to do this until they heard footsteps. 

“Shit.”

John mumbled, putting the cigarette out on the wall and looking around. He made sure it wasn’t George’s cell and threw the still-slightly-smoking cigarette in. 

“Let’s go.”

John said, breathing onto his hand and then proceeding to smell it.

“Shit, if we get approached, you do the talking.”

John said, pointing behind him to Ringo as he began to walk. Ringo and Paul followed behind, John about to step when Ringo pulled him back by the collar.

“I think you should jump from here.”

Ringo stated, John rolling his eyes and sighing. He sarcastically pinched his nose with his index finger and thumb, then jumped. He continued to walk, Ringo frowning. Paul and Ringo quickly jumped and then jogged to catch up to John.

“Why the hell didn’t you wait for us, John?”

Ringo asked in a bit of an irritated tone.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You guys were fine, if you didn’t realize, I’m in a bit of a hurry here. Don’t be such a bitch about it, okay? You know I’m not like that.”

Ringo grumbled something under his breath as he walked beside Paul.

“Paul and I are going to go back to the dining hall, you coming?”

Ringo asked to John, John remaining silent as they passed a guard; knowing they’d smell the smoke on his breath if he spoke. 

“What, do you own him now?”

John replied, looking back at Ringo. Ringo glared at John, Paul standing awkwardly.

“He needs to eat, you know how thin you can get here if you skip even a few meals.”

“I think the man knows what’s best for him, Ringo. He’s a grown ass man.”

“Yeah well he’s in a whole new territory now, he can’t just go and get food whenever he wants anymore.”

John remained silent, waving Ringo off.

“Fine, go eat. I’ll be in my cell.”

John mumbled grumpily, Paul putting a hand on his shoulder. John shot him a glare, Paul looking a bit hurt by that. John sighed, crossing his arms.

“I think you should eat...you know? It might help with your breath.”

Paul said quietly, not wanting anyone to think he was taking a side. John was quiet for a few moments, and then sighed.

“Fine, if you insist.”

John agreed, continuing to walk to the dining hall. The three grabbed trays and talked about nothing in particular. John had seemed to calm down as they went to sit down at a table.

“Do you know how long George’s thing is?”

John asked, Ringo shrugging.

“Thirty minutes maybe? I dunno, it’s a long class.”

Paul poked his food, Ringo chuckling, John looking over to see what he was chuckling at.

“It’s not all meat and goods, princess, ya get what ya get.”

John mused, Paul tensing up at the name ‘princess,’ John watching in amusement. 

The three ate for a while, George eventually joining them as they were all about to go back to their cells.

“Aw, c’mon guys, I just got here!”

George exclaimed, John raising a hand to silence him.

“I’m so tired, Geo, I haven’t slept a lot and my brain feels like it’s going to explode. I’ll see you guys at dinner, yeah?”

Paul, Ringo and George nodded, and John walked out of the dining hall and out of sight. George looked to Ringo and Paul, raising his brows.

“Are you guys going to your cell too?”

Ringo looked to Paul, and Paul looked to the floor for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. Ringo sighed and looked to George.

“Yeah, probably, sorry George.”

George sighed in defeat, frowning.

“Alright, I guess I’ll go do something on my own then.”

“Sorry mate.”

Ringo shrugged, gesturing for Paul to follow him as they said goodbye to George. Ringo asked Paul at how his day was going for him as they walked back to the cell. Once they approached the cell, Ringo pushed the door open, leaving it cracked as they both walked in.

“They just let you go in and out as you please?”

Paul asked, Ringo nodding.

“Yeah, they only lock them up at night when there aren’t as many guards. They know prisoners go in and out so they just let them.”

Ringo stated simply, Paul nodding as he climbed up to the top bunk.

“So what are you in here for Ringo?”

Paul asked, then added,

“If that’s okay to ask.”

Ringo chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s a basic question here.”

Ringo sighed and climbed up to the top bunk, pushing Paul out of the way a little.

“Well, where to begin…”

Ringo laughed softly and ran a hand through his hair.

“First, I got caught drunk driving about five times, then I got caught doing MDMA.”

Ringo gave a somber chuckle, and it was his turn to stare at the floor.

“I wasn’t in the best of places. I lost my job, so I resorted to drinking.”

He mumbled, then looked back up at Paul.

“I’ve been in here for about three years, the longest out of John, George and I.”

Paul patted Ringo’s shoulder, Ringo chuckling once more at Paul’s comfort.

“How about you?”

Paul looked away, shrugging.

“Come on, I told you, you’re gonna get asked at some point. It’s the main question every newbie gets.”

Paul sighed, speaking softly.

“Well…”

Paul’s voice trailed off, bringing his knees up to his chest. He opened his mouth to begin, when John burst in the cell.

“Guys, George is getting himself into a fight and we need to pull him out of it quick.”

Ringo groaned, not bothering to climb down the ladder as he jumped off the bunk. Paul did the same as they jogged behind John.

“Who is it this time? The same?”

John nodded, Ringo rolling his eyes.   
“Who?”

Paul said, as he tried to drag behind a bit, being faster than the other two. 

“He’s the guard that seems to hate us the most. We don’t know why but he always checks on us and just  _ tries _ to find something to bust us for.”

Paul grunted, looking at Ringo.

“Seriously? What’s his name?”

He said effortlessly as Ringo breathlessly mumbled a response.

“Brian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you didn't already get it, Ringo resorted to alcohol and drugs because of his lost job. That was a slight implication on how Ringo became an alcoholic after the Beatles broke up. I had to make it more than alcohol though because I don't think five DUI's gets you prison time. I don't honestly know why I had John do what he did, I was going to do something about him getting to aggressive at a peace protest or something but that wouldn't make sense...  
> Anyways, thanks for reading! c:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George's anger gets a bit out of hand and the other three start to worry about what will happen to him. Paul shares his musical background, and the other three share theirs. They bond over their music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry this was so delayed, I have such a creative block right now. I also apologize if this chapter is a little short and sloppy, I wrote it very quickly and I have a headache from lack of sleep, so yeah. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless though!

John, Ringo and Paul rounded the corner and bumped into a few people. They muttered apologies as they pushed to the front of the small crowd. People snarled at them, but none of the three really cared at the moment.

“You're just  _ asking _ to be killed aren't you?”

The three heard a voice, and then the undoubtedly familiar voice of George afterwards.

“Not  _ really _ ! I was just walking to my  _ fucking cell _ , and you bumped into me! I didn't even say anythin’ and you accuse me of doing it on purpose!”

John eventually shoved the last person out of the way and Ringo and Paul followed close behind. The three stood by George’s side, glaring at Brian. 

“Is there a fucking problem here?”

John asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Paul didn't really know why he was here, he hardly knew George; but if he wanted to be their friend, he's surely have to do his part and stick up for him. 

“Don't talk down to me like that, you're just a prisoner. Do you want a bed rep?”

Brian retorted, John snarling and Brian stepping back a bit.

“Do you want a fuckin’ bruise on your jaw?”

John remarked , Brian staring at John with a grim look. George clenched his fists, looking to John and Ringo, trying to figure out what they were going to do.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Brian replied, John narrowing his eyes at Brian. Everything was quiet for a bit, until John threw a punch at Brian’s stomach. Brian wheezed and snarled as he put a hand on his baton. The crowd behind John roared, obviously enjoying the show that was being put on. George, Ringo and Paul were ready to defend their friend if needed, but felt a bit nervous of what the crowd would do. Brian pulled out the baton, holding it above his head.

“Do that again! I dare you!”

He said, John throwing another punch to Brian, Brian swiftly grabbing John’s wrist before it collided with his ribs. The crowd began to grow bigger, and Brian wailed on John with the baton. John cringed as he tried to wriggle his wrist free, George eventually taking action and kicking Brian’s knee. Brian reached to his belt, pressing a button on his walkie-talkie. John squirmed out of Brian’s grip and pulled George back. 

“He’s signalling fuckin’ reinforcements.”

John mumbled, glaring at Brian as Brian chuckled.

“What? You’re allowed to have four people to help and I’m not?”

“Not when you’ve all got weapons you sick fuck.”

George practically growled, Brian shrugging. George jerked John’s hands off of his shoulders, John stumbling backwards. The youngest of the four stepped up to Brian, and before Brian had a chance to react, George punched him square in the jaw. Brian stumbled from the blow, George breathing heavily at the adrenaline. John gulped, grabbing George’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. Guards appeared down the hall, and John, Paul, George and Ringo all ran back to Ringo and Paul’s cell. The crowd that had gathered roared in approval once more, and ran towards the two guards. The guards halted, seeing the crowd begin to revolt, then retreated in the other direction. 

Once the four arrived at Ringo and Paul’s cell, George and Ringo sat on the bottom bunk, John sitting on the top bunk and Paul sitting on the floor in front. 

“What was all that for?”

Paul asked, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. He hadn’t done anything to help that entire time, and although he felt bad, he still was glad he didn’t get hurt. He was already mentally wounded, let alone physically wounded. 

“I mean- you heard him right? He was provoking us!”

George exclaimed, Ringo gesturing for him to calm down.

“No, not that, I understand that. Why did everyone-- yanno- go crazy and rampant?”

John snorted, climbing down to sit next to Paul on the floor.

“If you’re violent or create enough tension, they’ll go all anarchy on the guards.”

John replied, Paul giving a small ‘oh,’ and then looking to the floor.

“Yeah, it happens a lot actually.”

Ringo commented, looking to George.

“Dude, you know they’re gonna be out for your ass right?”

Ringo said with a bit of concern.

“Literally and metaphorically, probably.”

John commented, Paul elbowing him gently.

“Hey- it’s true.”

George groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“Don’t remind me, they’ll probably put me in solitary for a few days.”

George grumbled, bringing a knee to his chest and resting his elbow on it, then resting his chin on his knuckles.

“Let’s hope not.”

Ringo mumbled, silence overtaking the four for a bit.

“You can stay here until lockdown, but after that I don’t know what to say.”

Ringo offered, George shrugging.

“Thanks, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do either but whatever. I’ll think of something.”

The four sat and tried to change the topic, but still worrying a small bit.

\- 

Before they knew it, time had flown by and it was time for the only real important meal in prison; dinner. The four men stood up and began to walk to the dining hall.

“So, Paul, what did you do before all this prison stuff?”

John asked, looking to the newbie. Paul tensed up and shrugged.

“I used to write music and stuff. I played bass guitar, piano and a couple other instruments. My music never really got anywhere, though because it was just me.”

Paul shrugged once more and John’s eyes lit up.

“You used to write music? Like your own stuff?”

Paul nodded,

“Yeah, I just was a little creative I guess.”

John smiled, putting an arm over Paul’s shoulder. 

“Dude, I used to write music too. George and I actually knew each other before we both got thrown in prison. We had a small little thing going on-- like a band I mean --but after things started going smoothly we got stuck in here.”

John said happily as they walked into the dining hall.

“You sing?”

John asked to Paul, Paul nodding.

“Dude, that’s so cool, I sing too. I am not very fond of my voice, though.”

John shrugged, and Paul shook his head.

“I’m sure you sound great. You should sing for me sometime.”

Paul offered, John nodding.

“Ditto.”

Paul smiled and Ringo piped in.

“I used to play drums, but I uh, I stopped when I started becoming an alcoholic.”

Ringo chuckled awkwardly, George trying to clear the slight tension he created.

“Yeah, I played guitar, like John said, we tried to make something out of it.”

Paul, John, Ringo and George all got in the line for the dinner servings, talking about their favorite artists, and their favorite pieces to sing and play. By the time dinner was finished, they had all learned a good portion about each other. 

“Well- it’s time.”

George grumbled, standing up to throw away the styrofoam tray.

“Let’s all hope I don’t die.”

George chuckled, the others nervously chuckling as well, knowing sometimes that was the case. George threw away the tray and then walked past the table once more.

“C’mon guys, I’ll just be in solitary for a few days. I’ll be fine.”

Ringo, Paul and John waved goodbye, Ringo telling him to be careful, and George grunting in response. The three watched him round the corner to his cell, and then sighed. They knew he’d be okay, but they all couldn’t help but worry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo and John try to figure out what Paul did to get him in here. Confusion and sadness are brought up in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out! I might just update it twice a week because I'm busy with work and things. Sorry if it's short, and I hope you enjoy!

Paul stood up, looking to Ringo.  
“Are we heading to our room after this I'm guessing?”  
Ringo nodded.  
“Okay, I'm going to put my tray away and all that jazz. I'll be right back.”  
Paul slowly walked away, Ringo looking to John curiously.  
“Hey, so John?”  
Ringo started, speaking quickly.  
“Yeah?”  
“Did Paul tell you what he did? Like to get in here?”  
John was quiet for a moment, looking up to see Paul still throwing away his stuff.  
“Yeah he did, why?”  
Ringo grimaced, John looking at him questioningly.  
“Did he not tell you?”  
“No, he didn't seem like he wanted to either.”  
“Hm.”  
John shrugged, leaning over the table as he saw Paul walk towards them.  
“He didn't seem too bothered to tell me, so I don't know then.”  
“He does seem to like you, John.”  
John blushed slightly as he leaned back, Paul taking a seat next to Ringo.  
“What were you lads talking about?”  
Paul asked, leaning his chin on his hand.  
“Music, that's all.”  
John replied smoothly, Paul nodding and giving a soft ‘ah,’ in response.  
“Well, Ringo, let's go throw away our trash. We don't want to be the last ones in here, yeah?”  
Ringo nodded and Paul gave a small smile.  
“I'll wait here then.”  
Ringo and John got up, John jogging for a second to get beside Ringo.   
“So what did he do?”  
Ringo asked, John looking to the floor.  
“He told me not to tell anybody. I feel like I should respect that.”  
“Oh c’mon John!”  
“Fine, fine.”  
John sighed, shrugging as he threw a napkin in the trash.  
“He said he shoplifted a bunch, but I dunno.”  
Ringo pursed his lips and then frowned.  
“Hey- but when we talked on the way back to our cell, he told me he would be here for about four or five years.”  
John frowned, slamming his tray on top of the others.  
“One of us is being lied to, shoplifting doesn't get you in prison for four or five years. At most it’d be a year depending.”  
Ringo nodded, walking slowly to Paul.  
“I think he lied to you, mate.”  
Ringo said, John staring sternly at the ground.  
“I'll try to get it out of him tonight.”   
Ringo mumbled, John nodding as they approached Paul.  
“Alright, well, let's go Paul. Cya John.”  
Ringo said with a small wave, John waving back. Paul smiled, waving as John gave a half-assed smile back and began to walk away.   
Ringo talked around the subject of how Paul got in prison, trying to be subtle.  
“So, have you ever been to juvie or anything?”  
Ringo asked as they entered their cell.  
“No, I haven't.”  
Paul mumbled, sitting on the floor in front of the bunk beds.  
“Ever gotten in trouble as a kid?”  
“Well yeah.”  
“I mean like big trouble, though.”  
Paul shook his head, Ringo grunting as he sat on his bunk.  
“Not particularly.”  
Ringo nodded, looking into Paul’s hazel eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.  
“I haven't either, I was a pretty decent kid. Was sick a lot though.”  
Ringo said, Paul chiming in.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, I eventually had to drop out of school it got so bad. Guess that's why I'm not exactly the most intelligent.”  
Paul chuckled, rolling his eyes.  
“That's crazy.”  
The two were silent for a bit, Paul sitting cross-legged and staring at his boots.  
“So, anything interesting happen while you were young?”  
Ringo asked, looking to Paul with curiosity in his eyes. Paul was quiet for what seemed like years, but then finally spoke.  
“My mother died when I was young.”  
He said softly, staring.  
“Oh, I'm so sorry.”  
Ringo said, immediately feeling guilty for having asked.  
“No, no, it's alright. I'm the one who decided to share the information anyways.”  
Paul shrugged, not even bothering to look at Ringo. There was a long stretch of silence that seemed to last for decades until Ringo tried to comfort the other.  
“Well, John’s mother died young as well. He could probably relate to that.”  
Ringo shrugged, staring at Paul as he finally looked up at him.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, I'm not making stuff up.”  
Paul gave a faint smile, and then chuckled sadly.  
“Happens to the best of us I guess.”  
He shrugged, Ringo looking away.  
“I guess.”  
Paul chuckled once more as he stood, walking to the ladder. He climbed up Ringo heard a flop as the mattress caved in.  
The two men's heads whipped to the door at the sound of a man’s voice.   
“Alright, everyone get to your own fucking cells, we’re locking up.”  
Many prisoners scrambled around the halls, doors slamming echoed in the distance. After a few seconds, they saw a man at their door. He simply glanced at them, then closed the door, locking it, and then moving on.   
Ringo sighed as he fell back onto his bed, staring up at the dent above him.  
-  
Ringo couldn't sleep, he didn't know why. He knew Paul, that wasn't the problem. Something about Paul was the problem, though. Ringo suspected him to still be awake, but he didn't want to say anything in case he wasn't. It had been about four hours since they locked the doors, Ringo guessed; which would mean it was eleven at night. Most of the prisoners were asleep, but some were still muttering things to themselves. Ringo jumped a bit when he heard a sharp inhale above him, and then a shaky breath out. Ringo slowly poked his head out from the bunk, trying to catch a glimpse of Paul. He could only see his back, and the other seemed to be shaking.   
“P...Paul?”  
Ringo called out quietly, Paul tensing up. There was a shaky cough and then Paul cleared his throat.  
“Y-yeah?”  
Ringo slowly slid out from his bunk and climbed up the ladder. He patted his way to a clear spot to sit down.   
“Are you alright?”  
Ringo asked, squinting to see Paul in the pitch dark.   
Another long silence.  
“N-no.”   
Paul said honestly, Ringo sighing and patting his leg.  
“It's okay, everyone cries on their first actual night.”  
Paul shook, mumbling something that Ringo didn't understand.  
“What?”  
Ringo asked, leaning closer to Paul and eventually laying beside him.   
“Nothing.”  
Paul mumbled back, Ringo looking to him sadly.  
“Hey, I cried on my first night, John did too. I'm pretty sure George did too.”  
Paul let out a small sob, Ringo rubbing his back gently.  
“I remember when John cried. It was actually very sad.”  
Ringo said, looking down.  
“He was screaming something about a son, something about how he ‘needed to be there to see Julian grow up.’”  
Ringo remembered it very well, John had been introduced to Ringo in the morning. Ringo had been intimidated by the man at first, but John had seemed nervous, so Ringo decided to talk to him. John had eventually opened up to Ringo and became his witty self as the conversation progressed. Although that night was a very different John.   
“I have only seen that John twice before, desperate and in pain.”  
Ringo mumbled, Paul looking at him. Ringo saw Paul up-close; his eyes puffy from crying, his cheeks wet from his tears, his hair a bit crazy and some matted to his forehead.   
“He kept screaming out for Julian, that he needed to see Julian, needed to apologize to Cynthia.”  
Ringo sighed, closing his eyes as he spoke.  
“The next time I saw him like that…”  
Ringo trailed off, repositioning himself to get comfortable.  
“After he got transferred to a different wing, he moved into a cell with a man named Stuart; Stu for short.”  
Ringo paused, taking in a deep breath.  
“They got extremely close over the years, if you know what I mean.”  
Ringo said softly, opening his eyes to see Paul’s eyes widen.  
“Yeah…”  
Ringo mumbled, burying his head into the mattress as he spoke.  
“John was actually very happy with his and Stu’s...situation. Stu promised John everything, John accepted that as fact. After living in paradise for a while, things went south.”  
Ringo paused, lowering his voice.  
“Stu faked an illness to get to the ER, then he escaped, leaving John.”  
Ringo lifted his head, looking to Paul seriously.  
“I, honestly, don't think he's a bad person for doing so. If anyone, including John, had had the resources and mind to pull that off, they would have. Hell, I would have too. Regardless, it left John completely torn; and that night he went back to how he was the first night. He was desperate and crying and screaming that he was betrayed. It was quite sad, really.”  
Ringo finished, laying his head down again, closing his eyes. Everything was quiet for a moment and then Paul spoke.  
“Wow...I’d never take John for...that kind of guy.”  
Paul whispered, Ringo nodding lazily.  
“Yeah, he's usually so relaxed and sarcastic that you never really see that side of him.”   
Ringo said slowly, Paul laying his head down and closing his eyes as well.  
“Ringo?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Are you tired at all?”  
“I dunno, I'm always tired nowadays. Are you?”  
“No.”  
Ringo paused, sighing.  
“So, Paul, why are you in here?”  
There was quiet, and Paul began to sob quietly once again.   
“Paul? Are you alright?”  
Ringo sat up, patting Paul’s back as he rubbed his own eyes.  
“I…”  
Paul let out a shaky breath.  
“I…”  
Ringo couldn’t help but take his hand away from Paul’s back, feeling a bit threatened.  
“I was fucking framed…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger c;


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter- basically explains how Paul was arrested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, ya miss me? :^)   
> I'm sorry I've been so absent- I'm on a road trip with my brother at the moment. I also have been getting frequent headaches, which leads to me not being able to write very well or have ideas.  
> That being said, sorry this chapter is really short- and if it's not very creative. I'll try to make the next one longer c^;

Paul sobbed, Ringo relaxing a bit.  
“For what? What happened?”  
Paul bit his lip, sighing shakily.  
“Well, I had been walking home from this bird’s house, you know?”  
Paul paused, gulping.  
“Her name was Linda, and we had been getting close and all recently. She had offered to walk me home, but I didn't want her to because it was dark out. It might have been a bit rude of me, but I was concerned for her.”  
The hazel-eyes that belonged to the younger man looked down.  
“As I was walking home there was a man in front of my building. He was sharply dressed, a suit and tie. He had the most dazzling blue eyes I'd ever seen and brown slicked back hair.”  
Paul paused once more, as if preparing himself.  
“He looked to me and asked if I knew who lived in the apartment below me. I told him it was some bird named Tatiana and her twin son and daughter. He thanked me and asked me to hold his stuff while he went to bathroom quickly. It was just a briefcase and a key so I figured ‘Sure, why not?.’ After he came back, I went upstairs and fell asleep. The next thing I knew, police were knocking on my door saying they found my fingerprints at a crime scene.”  
Paul stopped, taking in a heavy breath.  
“They dragged me to the interrogation room at the police station. They told me Tatianna and her children were murdered and the only evidence they had pointed to me.”  
He ran a hand through his hair nervously.  
“I tried to tell them a description, but there wasn't much to go on. I didn't get a name, nor did I get a great facial depiction because it was night so it was kinda dark. With no other evidence to go on besides the stuff pointing at me, they told me to call a lawyer. I pleaded innocent, but the judge thought otherwise. I had no witnesses, and people who lived around me said they weren't surprised. ‘Said I was an emotional person far as they knew and that I was always out ‘till late.”  
Paul finished, tears welling up in his eyes as one rolled down his cheek.   
“They said normally they'd put me in prison for life; but because it was a homicide and there were children…”  
Paul paused and let out a small sob.  
“They're executing me in a month.”  
Ringo’s eyes widened, staring at Paul in a bewildered manor.  
“Really? I thought they weren't allowed to do that anymore!”  
Paul simply shrugged, frowning.  
“Apparently not.”  
Ringo stared, not knowing what to say.  
“I'm so sorry.”  
He said after a few seconds, Paul shrugging once more.  
“Just- I have one request for you.”  
“What is it?”  
“Please, don't tell John.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul explains to Ringo why he doesn't want his secret told to John. An interesting conversation between John and Paul arises at breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! It is I again! I'm sorry for the late updates. They will come eventually but it just takes me a while. This chapter is longer than the last but still a bit short, so I'm sorry for that. Hope you enjoy reguardless! Thanks for reading!

Ringo stared, puzzled.  
“How come?”  
Paul bit his lip, laying his head on the bed.  
“I really do fancy him, it sounds stupid, but I do.”  
The hazel-eyed boy mumbled, Ringo’s eyes lighting up.   
“Really?”  
He asked, Paul nodding, rolling his eyes.  
“Go ahead, make your jokes that I’m a fag or whatever.”  
He said with venom in his tone, not looking at Ringo and instead glaring at the wall.  
“No, no, I wasn't going to do that at all! Didn’t you not hear me just tell you the story of John and Stu?”  
Ringo said, earning a chuckle from Paul.  
“Anyways, I think you should at least try to sleep. You don't get much in here.”  
The taller male nodded slowly, the other scooting over to the ladder.  
“Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks for, uh, whatever this was.”  
Paul said softly, Ringo chuckling.  
“Yeah, no problem.”  
Ringo responded, Paul giving a final nod before Ringo climbed down.  
–  
Paul barely got any sleep; he was too worried if Ringo would tell John. He wanted to tell John himself, he wanted to tell John later… a lot later. He figured a few days before his execution would suffice. Paul knew it’d probably make John angry; if they even became friends by that point. Paul knew that John would probably hate him after telling him that so close to his death date. He knew all this, but he still kept to his decision. Paul knew that if he told John he was ‘due to die’ sooner rather than later, he wouldn't be so friendly with Paul. That thought broke Paul’s heart. He really did want to be close with John, so he had to tell him a lot later. Nobody wanted to be friends with someone who was just going to die practically the next day, right?  
Paul’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud clicking noise from his and Ringo’s cell door. He opened his eyes and looked over. Ringo was already standing by the door, pushing it open. Paul slid himself over to the ladder and climbed down it; quickly standing beside Ringo.  
“Oh, hey Paul.”  
Ringo said slowly, smiling slightly.  
“Did you sleep at all?”  
The shorter man asked, Paul shaking his head.  
“Ah, I see. Well cmon, let’s go get breakfast.”  
Paul nodded, really hoping John was there so they could talk more.  
–  
After Ringo and Paul got their food, they sat down across from George.   
“George, how’d you get here so fast?”  
Ringo asked, George chuckling as he shoved a couple tater tots into his mouth.   
“I woke up early- was super hungry.”  
He spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.   
Paul looked at his plate, simply poking the food and rolling it around. George and Ringo glanced to each other a bit worriedly. They both looked back at Paul, Ringo being the first to speak up.  
“‘Ey Paul, you alright?”  
Paul simply nodded, eating a bit of the extremely greasy breakfast pizza.  
“Okay, just checking.”  
Ringo said smoothly, before turning back to George and carrying on a conversation with him. Paul was only half-listening, overhearing things about how George’s cooking class went.   
After a while, Paul heard a clunk from next to him, and felt the table shake a bit. He turned and saw the beautiful man before him.   
“Hey John! Where ya been?”  
George said, clasping his hands together and brushing off crumbs.  
“Eh, got caught up in some stuff getting over here.”  
The brown-eyed male responded, tapping his fingers on the table.   
“Are you not eating?”  
Paul asked softly, looking up to John. John looked at him and raised a brow.   
“Ah? No, I don't think so. Not all that hungry.”  
Paul bit his lip and then nodded, looking to the floor. John looked down at Paul with a raised brow, then tapped his fingers on the table. He looked to the others and they quickly started up a conversation. Paul eventually joined in after a while, and they all talked for a good twenty minutes. Paul, Ringo and George went up to put away their trays, John sitting at the table in silence.   
Paul looked back at the brunet, smiling. He used Ringo and George talking to only each other as an excuse to walk his own pace. He sped up a bit, trying to get back to the table first to be with John for a bit. Even if it only bought them a few seconds together, he’d take whatever he could get. Paul dumped his leftovers in the trash and threw the tray where it was supposed to go. He rushed back to the table and sat down next to John. John looked over to Paul, Paul giving a small smile.  
“So, do you- uh, remember any of the songs you wrote?”  
John nodded,   
“Yeah, had to memorize ‘em you know.”  
The said male chuckled, Paul nodding.  
“‘Course, course.”  
There was a small pause, and then Paul spoke up once more.  
“Hey, after everyone parts ways after breakfast do you want to come to my cell and talk about music? It sounds kinda lame, but I'd really like to hear your voice and stuff, if that's alright with you. Ringo said he’s going to do some favors so I figured we could just hang out at my cell.”  
John stared for a bit. The man was genuinely interested in him?   
“Oh, well, yeah sure.”  
He shrugged, looking at Paul softly.  
“If that's what you want.”  
Paul nodded, George and Ringo sitting down where they had previously.  
“Hey guys, we miss anything?”  
Ringo questioned, John and Paul looking to each other.  
“No, not really. We were just chatting.”  
John stated flatly, Ringo eyeing Paul.  
“Oh, alright.”  
Paul tried to avoid Ringo’s gaze that bore into the side of his face.  
“So, George, do you have cooking or anything today?”  
Paul asked, trying to make conversation. He didn't talk to George all that much. Not that he didn't like him, he did! It was just hard to talk with him for some reason. George was more of a keep-to-himself kind of guy it seemed. He only seemed to truly open up when talking with Ringo. They seemed like really good friends, maybe they just clicked? Paul did want to become close with all three of the others, though.   
“Ah, yeah. Gotta go pretty much everyday if they wanna trust me with food.”  
He said, looking at Paul with his usual stare.  
“They afraid you're gonna poison it or something?”  
Paul asked, George shrugging.  
“That and eat the portions that aren't for me.”  
George said smoothly, Paul nodding.  
“Yeah, makes sense I guess.”  
George nodded as well, pursing his lips as he looked up at the clock.  
“I’ve got about five minutes more to talk, and then I have to split.”  
He mused, looking back to the Ringo. They both eventually got into a conversation, and John and Paul were left to their own chatter about this and that.   
In the few long hours Paul had been here, he noticed that seemed to happen a lot. Their four man group would break off into even smaller sections. They’d choose who they wanted to interact with at that moment. That was, of course, fine with Paul, as he liked all of them. He was especially okay with it because most of the time, it was George and Ringo who would break off and talk amongst themselves. That often left him with John, and the more he talked to John, the closer they’d become over the next month.   
Of course he was also fine with talking to Ringo, he talked to him just about all the time anyways. Being cellmates helped with their friendship; at least Paul thought so.   
George was iffy, but usually he could hold a conversation about whatever for a few good minutes. They weren't as close as either of them were with everyone else, and that only upset Paul a little. Considering the previously established recluse he seemed to be, Paul understood that it would take some time for George to open up to him. Paul silently hoped that it wouldn't take too long, though, since he was only going to be here for a little while.   
Now that he thought of it, he didn't even know why George was in here. Paul had told Ringo why, and he knew why Ringo and John were; but George and Paul didn't know why the other was stuck in here. Not that George had ever necessarily asked, and he hadn't either, but still. It was a bit strange, but Paul didn't really pay it any mind.   
Soon, George stood and said his goodbyes to everyone, including Paul. They all exchanged waves and George was off. Ringo stood up next, explaining that he was going to trade favors for cigarettes and such.   
That just left John and Paul to themselves. They stood up, and Paul smiled brightly as he led John to his cell. He thought this was a good idea, John and him would bond over their shared love for music. It would go smoothly, and they'd both expand on their friendship. He’d also get to hear John’s voice, and maybe John would ask to hear his. It was definitely something Paul was looking forward to, whether he should've been or not.


	7. Update!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small update before next chapter– which is soon to come!

Hey it's me! I haven't updated this in a long while– mainly because high school has started up again and I have been busy. I hope you all can forgive me for that :'). 

Anyways! I promise a new chapter will be up tomorrow! I'll probably have two or three more chapters for this; and then try to finish it up. It got a bit longer than I'd planned, but what can you do?

Anywho! Prepare for that tomorrow! Sorry that this isn't a chapter, I just wanted to let you all know since I've been on the down-low for a while!


	8. Things Escalate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Paul find out that they make a great team. John seems to figure something out about his feelings towards Paul. 
> 
> Poor George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey! I finally updated this! I tried to make this a pretty long chapter to make up for the shorter ones. It's got some angst in it, but there might be a bit of smut in the next chapter. If you'd like to skip it, I'll put a little warning in parenthesis before it happens so you can :). Hope you enjoy!

Paul and John entered Paul’s cell, Paul trying not to smile like an idiot.  
“So what kind of songs have you written?”  
Paul asked, John raising a brow. Usually when he told people he wrote songs they'd say, ‘oh cool,’ and move on. Although with Paul, he basically said ‘oh yeah me too!’ and that amazed John.  
“Well, when I was a teen I used to write kinda sappy love songs, y’know?”  
He said, Paul nodding.  
“Yeah, no worries, me too.”  
He mused, sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, patting a spot as he scooted back against the wall.  
“Do you remember any of yours?”  
John asked, sitting where Paul had offered and cocking his head.  
Paul tensed up at being put on the spot. He chuckled nervously and nodded slowly, adjusting his bangs.   
“Well let’s hear it then!”  
John said enthusiastically, Paul clearing his throat.   
“Alright…”   
He said, avoiding John’s intense gaze. Paul remembered John said he didn’t like his own voice; so perhaps this would encourage the other?  
“Close your eyes, and I’ll kiss you. Tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be with you.”  
Paul sang, his voice neither cracking nor wavering. John put up his hand, gesturing for Paul to stop.  
“That was pretty good there Paullie.”  
He said, Paul’s eyes lighting up as his face turned a slight shade of red.  
“Really?”  
“Ta, t’was.”  
John replied,   
“Except for the last lyric. I think maybe it should be-”  
John cleared his throat, hesitating for a moment before opening his mouth again.  
“Tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be true.”  
He sang, Paul’s eyes widening slightly. John’s voice was so beautiful to him; the entire man was beautiful. Paul nodded, giving a small applause. John snickered and pretended to bow.  
“How about this?”  
Paul slid up to the edge of the bed by John.  
“And then while I’m away I’ll write home everyday, and I’ll send all my loving to you.”  
John sensed a spark between them, and quickly sang off the top of his head.  
“All my loving, I will send to you. All my loving, darling I’ll be true.”  
He echoed, Paul smiled.  
“I’d never thought about adding that!”  
He exclaimed, as if it was a new scientific discovery.   
“You’re bloody brilliant.”  
Paul said, John blushing slightly as he rested his chin on his knuckles.  
“So basically the song repeats but in a bit of a higher octave.”  
The dark-haired male said, his smile still shining.  
“What about you? You remember any of your songs?”  
“I did say that earlier, didn't I?”  
Paul chuckled awkwardly as he remembered. John tapped his chin, pursing his lips.   
“Here I stand, head in hand, turn my face to the wall. If she’s gone I can’t go on feeling two foot small. Everywhere people hear, pretty much everyday.”  
John raised his brows as he looked to Paul.  
“How about- Everywhere people stare each and everyday.”  
Paul suggested, John’s hand dropping to his lap.  
“Genius, Paul! Ya creative mind, you.”  
John enthused, smiling bright, which in turn, made Paul smile.  
“I’m glad you think so.”  
Paul said softly, John ruffling Paul’s hair. Paul couldn’t get rid of the smile plastered on his face. He hadn’t felt so excited writing music in a long while.  
“Maybe we’ll become famous song writers when we get out of here!”  
John chuckled, looking to Paul with eyes full of hope. Paul’s smile faltered and his heart sank.   
‘When we get out.’  
Paul tried not to let John know anything was wrong, and kept his smile.  
“Yeah!”  
-  
George walked down the hall, sticking behind other cellmates and trying to get close to the wall. He knew the guards would definitely scold him for his actions yesterday if they saw him.   
He sighed, he hated doing so, but he had lied to the other three. He hadn’t been to the cooking class today, but instead hiding anywhere he could go to. Luckily, the guard who’d closed their cell last night hadn’t known anything about George’s fit; but George could only have so much luck for so long.   
Unfortunately, as George was lost in his thoughts-- which seemed to happen often --he had bumped into the exact people he’d been trying to avoid.   
“Sorry.”  
George mumbled in a low tone, hanging his head low and trying to scurry away fast.  
“Oi! Are you G. Harrison?”  
The guard called before George got too far. George swallowed harshly, knowing if he denied it, it’d only due to bring him down more.   
“Yes, sir.”  
George mumbled, trying to suck up to the officer as a last resort.  
“Look at me when y’er talking to me, scum!”  
The guard barked, George turning and looking up at the guard through his long bangs.  
“Did you or did you not punch Officer Epstein yesterday?”  
“I did, sir.”  
“Louder!”  
“I did, sir!”  
The guard simply glared at George and grabbed his wrist.  
“Off to solitary with you then.”  
The guard said, and George swore there was a sadistic smile on his face. George’s fists clenched, but he knew punching the guy would get him in more trouble than it was worth.   
“For how long may I ask, sir?”  
The guard glanced down at George and then looked away.  
“However long we feel is suitable. Probably three days.”  
George groaned, this was sure to tarnish his reputation for his cooking class. Since you had to have a perfect reputation as one of the guidelines. Which meant no fights, no trouble, no nothing. As if solitary wasn’t already bad enough. He’d only heard about solitary from John, and it seemed like hell. When John had first come here he had smuggled in a sharp piece of glass in his boot. Apparently Ringo hadn’t known and at night John tried to cut one of the bars or kill himself with it. Although, George wasn’t sure how true the last part was, considering neither had come out and said it directly. He’d just heard rumors and banter from the guards about it before. After that, they put John in Solitary Confinement, or commonly known as solidarity or solitary. John had described it as putting you in an empty padded cell where there was absolutely nothing to do. They wouldn’t lock you in a straight jacket usually, but there was nothing in there except for occasionally food that got passed in. Nobody was allowed to talk to you, and you couldn’t talk to anyone.   
George knew he was in for one hell of a ride. He just wished he could tell the others so they didn’t have to worry.  
-  
John and Paul had come up with a total of one and a half songs in the span of an hour. They both thought that was pretty good, and decided to relax their minds for a while. They sat with their backs against the wall on the bottom bunk.  
“You’ve got a good brain with that pretty face of yours, Macca.”  
John said with a chuckle, Paul blushing and looking the other way.   
“Macca?”  
“Yeah, yanno, Maccatney.”  
John mimicked, giving a chuckle.   
“Well you’re not too bad yourself, Lennon.”  
Paul stated, staring awkwardly in front of him, although he felt John’s gaze on him.   
“George was never this good at writing songs, yanno? I mean- he was- but not with other people.”  
He said, continuing to stare at Paul with a dopey expression. He smirked, looking to the side next to him that Paul wasn’t sitting on. The hall was blocked by the bed-frame, just as John had expected. John looked back to Paul, his smirk still present.  
“Heya Paul?”  
John called, Paul turning to his friend.  
“What is i--?”  
Paul was cut off by the other’s lips on his own. He gasped slightly and John looked at him, feigning innocence. John pulled back and gave a quick wink before turning to look in front of him.   
“You ever wonder what it’s like to be famous?”  
John asked, Paul not able to respond. He desperately wanted to pull John back, but didn’t have the ability to move.   
“Wh-what?”  
Paul questioned, looking to John, confused.  
“You ever wonder what it’s like to be on top of the world?”  
John questioned, the smirk still present on his lips as he stared at Paul. Paul had trouble answering, but before he even could, John spoke again.  
“‘Cause I do.”  
Paul looked around nervously and raised a brow.  
“I wish I could know. How about you be the world for me and I can see what it’s like to be on top?”  
Paul broke into a slight blush, chuckling.  
“Excuse me?”  
He asked, John cackling, and Paul responding by asking:  
“Are you drunk, John?”  
John shook his head, looking to Paul with the same dopey gaze he’d been keeping on Paul all day.  
“Afraid not, son. ‘Tis just how I am, and you’re just finding out now.”  
Paul chuckled once more, sitting up a bit more.  
“Do you just kiss all your mates, then?”  
“No, only the special ones.”  
John remarked, and Paul looked away.  
“Listen, Paul, I can feel something between us, can’t you? The only other person who I even felt remotely close to this way with was…”  
John trailed off, biting his lip as he looked back at Paul.  
“Never mind that, but do you know what I mean?”  
John questioned, now using a more serious tone.   
“Ah, I um--.”  
Paul stuttered, giving a small yelp as John pulled him closer.  
“I just need a yes or a no from you, Macca.”  
John said sternly, Paul looking around for any sign of another person around.  
“Well- I- John we just met yesterday dontcha think you’re being a little irrational?”  
Paul asked.  
“Neigh, nope, nada, not really.”  
John said flatly, Paul raising a brow.  
“I know my emotions well, Paul. Why waste time pussy-footing around when I know what I want?”  
Paul was stuck; he wanted to say yes, especially now that John started kissing up his neck and close to his jaw. This had all escalated very quickly, and honestly Paul was very surprised.  
“This isn’t- uh- just for sex?”  
Paul asked nervously, John looking up at Paul with slight hurt in his eyes.  
“‘Course not, the sex is only a benefit with tha’ pretty face ya got. I love your mind, your face and you as a whole. I’ve only known you for a few hours but in those hours I’ve learned so much.”  
The older male said, kissing the other’s lips and then kissing down his jaw and neck.  
“Well- um-”  
“What is it, Paullie? Spit it out now or forever hold your peace.”  
Paul cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn’t be crossing a boundary.  
“I wouldn’t be a substitute for Stuart, would I?”

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! Congrats, haha. I'll try to update this regularly. I don't think I'll make it extremely long, but I do have a couple chapters planned. Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated, it lets me know if I should keep going or not usually.


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